Shoes of Silver, Hearts of Gold
by HisLittlePilgrim
Summary: The Witch maybe gone, but she isn't dead. DG must find a way to destroy her for good and Zero holds the key. Can DG learn to work with her greatest enemy? Can Wyatt Cain get his act together before Zero steals the heart of his princess? Please read!
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own the Wizard of OZ or Tin Man, including all the characters therein. Thanks to Frank L. Baum and the writers of Tin Man for creating such wonderful worlds and characters that inspire the imagination.

**Prologue**

The putrid puddle of black sludge on the anti-sunseeder platform was all that remained of the witch, but it was enough. A sliver of consciousness survived the melting process and while the viscous liquid was unable to see or hear, it could feel. Excruciating pain penetrated deep into the tarry mass of pure evil. In its weakened state, it could not survive long in an atmosphere so completely saturated with love and light as this one now was. It needed the cold darkness of soil, the deep magic of the earth left over from the First Days, when the O.Z. was called into being.

Acting on primordial instinct alone, the sludge bubbled and oozed its way into one of the machine's ventilation shafts. It dribbled its way down into the tower works until it finally reached the drainage pipes at the tower's base, where it was suddenly and forcefully expelled by a surge of water and sewage. Having finally found bare earth, the sludge spread itself as far over the ground as it could, allowing the soil to soak it up like a sponge. The deeper it seeped, the easier it became to spread its evil taint, and feed off the life force of the plants and insects within its currently limited reach. Only time and magic could extend that reach and fortunately there was plenty of time to be had. Here in the sanctuary of the soil it was safe.

**Eight months later**

He'd screamed in the beginning. Screamed until his throat burned and his voice cracked. No one heard, or if they did, they chose to leave him to his fate. A fate, he was beginning to realize, that was far worse than death. Day after day he stood, unmoving, locked in a tin hell with just enough air seeping in to keep him from suffocating. No food and no water, save for the barest sustenance that dripped into his body intravenously. He would live. That was the ingeniousness of Azkadellia's tin suit. When he longed for death, still he would live.

Time passed, carrying him deliriously along. What were minutes, hours? Just words, words he understood once, but now held no meaning. The rising and setting of the suns were all that mattered, but he even lost track of those after awhile. All he knew was light and darkness, hot and cold. Trapped though he was, his mind drifted, thoughts becoming muddled, incoherent, pulling, pulling farther away until… Snap!

His eyes snapped open. Trapped, his mind confirmed. But something was different. He felt it in his skin, tiny vibrations. Nothing, his mind said. Something, his nerves tingled. Faint scratching noises penetrated his dark, silent world, growing louder and louder, reverberating through the tin suit. There was a click followed by the groan of un-oiled hinges as the door to his prison swung open. Light and air, fresh air, washed over him. Blinking against the brightness, he took a tentative step forward and collapsed, his legs rigid from disuse. The grass was cool and damp beneath him, caressing the bare skin of his face, neck, arms and hands. Was this real or a delusion of his deranged mind? He dug his fingers into the soft rich soil, a strangled sob tearing from his throat. Not a dream, he thought. Not a dream…real. Rolling onto his back, he wept, he laughed, he screamed. I'm free. I'm free! I… but who am I? As he stared up at the canopy of trees his memory slowly came back to him. I am… I am… "I am Zero."

"I guess the eight months didn't break his mind after all." The hard but youthful voice shattered his fragile reverie as effectively as a rock through a stained glass window. The sounds he'd been oblivious to only moments before assaulted him mercilessly. The thud of horses' hooves and the jingling of bits and bridles set his ears to ringing. Zero clamped his hands against the sides of his head in an attempt to muffle the noise and gingerly rolled over onto his stomach. Even with his ears covered he could hear the simultaneous clicks of all manner of firearms being cocked. Dozens of pairs of booted feet surrounded him. He froze, knowing that if he looked up he'd see the vengeful faces of former resistance fighters.

"Kinda loud out here isn't it?" Zero stiffened. The last time he'd heard that voice was just before he'd found himself imprisoned in the tin suit. Wyatt Cain. "The suit tends to dampen any noise from the outside. When all you're used to hearing is the sound of your own voice and breathing, let's just say that all this white noise can be... overwhelming." Cain's voice held no sympathy, only cold disdain. Zero lifted his head and braved a glance at the ex-tin man. Stony blue eyes gazed at him critically and there was a grim set to his wide mouth.

"Cain, what a surprise," Zero tried to chuckle, but his voice cracked from disuse. "Thought you might have forgotten me."

Cain smiled a predatory smile, and the fear Zero had managed to keep a tight reign on thus far broke loose. "Oh, I could never forget about you, Zero."


	2. The Way We Were

Disclaimer: I do not own the Wizard of OZ or Tin Man, including all the characters therein. Thanks to Frank L. Baum and the writers of Tin Man for creating such wonderful worlds and characters that inspire the imagination.

**Chapter 1: The Way We Were**

DG stared at the stark white page in front of her charcoal pencil poised mid air ready to unleash a tempest of creative genius upon its pristine surface. Blank pages in her sketchbook were an affront to her artistic sensibilities and yet DG had been sitting with her back to the window for the better part of an hour completely unable to lay down so much as a scribble. Her fingers itched to fill the snowy void, but her heart couldn't bear to see the face she knew would appear if she allowed pencil to touch paper. For months now that face was all she could draw and she had sketchbooks full of him. It was a waste really, and it irritated DG to no end that while he, for all intents and purposes, appeared to have forgotten her, she could not forget him. He was still a part of her life, however intangible and removed he had become.

Everything changed. It was an inevitable and immutable fact of life. And hadn't that been what DG wanted when she was trapped on that little farm in the middle of nowheresville Kansas? Those first few weeks in the Outer Zone had been exhilarating, a welcome change despite the danger. She'd found family and friends during the frenzy of defeating an evil witch, but once the dust had settled everyone had gone their separate ways. True DG still had her family, but as it turned out, reconnecting with people you hadn't seen in twenty years much less remembered existed was anything but easy.

Of her new friends, Raw had been the first to go. It came as no surprise to DG that he wanted to return to his own people. She learned quickly that Viewers were regarded with some enmity by the citizens of Central City. It didn't matter that Raw and his kind had been abused. No, what mattered was the sense of superiority the witch had slowly bred among the masses during her reign. Viewers were no more than beasts of burden to her, insignificant and savage, and it was this principle that she fostered through the use of propaganda and threat. She had need of their psycho-empathic abilities, thus they were rounded up like cattle to enhance her sight and serve as guinea pigs in her sick little experiments. Anyone caught aiding or harboring a Viewer was considered a traitor and imprisoned in a tin suit. The lucky ones had merely been executed. Though their parting had been sad, DG truly wanted what was best for Raw. He wrote occasionally. The letters, written in his large, scrawling script, were far from eloquent but they were full of love. DG cherished every one, and kept them safely tucked away in her desk drawer to be read and reread whenever she was missing her furry friend, which was often.

Glitch stayed in Central with her family, but he had quickly become an absent presence. With his brain having been safely reinstalled in his head, Glitch, or Ambrose as he was now called by everyone save DG, jumped enthusiastically back into his old role as Chief Advisor to the Queen, and despite the occasional synaptic misfire he performed his duties with all expediency and efficiency. In other words he was busy. So busy that he rarely had a spare moment to spend with a lonely farm girl turned princess. DG couldn't resent him though. In the midst of all his rushing hither and thither, meetings with very important persons, and overseeing the latest in scientific research he always managed to greet her with an exuberant smile that reassured her that he was still the same Glitch who helped her save the O.Z. In his own way Glitch was still saving the O.Z., one disgruntled parliament member and scientific doohickey at a time. What was DG doing? Drawing, at least attempting to draw, honing her magical abilities, and pretending for all its worth to fall easily into the role of Princess Dorothy Glinda Gale savior of the O.Z. and heir apparent. After all wasn't that what everyone expected, wanted even?

The third member of her band of protectors, the one whose face filled the white voids in her sketchbooks and perplexed DG to no end, had merely slipped away. Wyatt Cain had perplexed DG as much in person as he did in effigy. He was stoic and guarded, as hard as the tin suit she'd freed him from. No one could deny that in the beginning there had been a definite thaw in his demeanor toward her, toward Glitch and Raw, toward life in general. He'd even gone so far as to spare the life of his most hated enemy. DG truly believed he was on the mend, that he'd found a new purpose as commander of the Gale Force, a light cavalry regiment whose primary duty was to hunt down and eliminate any threats from renegade longcoats or bandits. DG couldn't pinpoint exactly when he started to withdraw, but after each mission he seemed slightly more...diminished. His smiles, already rare to begin with, vanished under the weight of an invisible burden that, if Cain's dark moods were any indicator, only appeared to grow heavier. She tried to reach out to him, but again and again he brushed her aside. Then he was gone. The day he left was forever seared into DG's memory. The Gale Force had been deployed on a high priority mission; the retrieval of a war criminal second in villainy only to that of the witch. General Zero. DG shivered at the thought of the man who'd destroyed so many lives, not the least of these being Wyatt Cain's, and was now rotting away in Kiamo Ko, a maximum security prison reserved for only the most depraved individuals. Zero's imprisonment did little to console DG. He was, she firmly believed, the reason Cain disappeared and if she had her way she'd find the nearest electric chair and strap him to it. But now that her mother wore the crown, there was no death penalty in the Outer Zone, much to DG's everlasting disappointment.

Tears stood in her eyes, ready to make their trek down her cheeks, but before they could being the plunge downward DG swiped them away viciously. Almost a year had passed since Cain resigned his commission and left. He didn't even bother to write and whatever news was to be had of him she'd gotten from Jeb. Her mother had given the Cains a small tract of land as a reward for their services to the crown. She'd even offered them a title, but Wyatt Cain had refused and when DG asked why he'd merely said, "No offense Princess, but titles are dangerous. They don't say anything about a man's character and they demand respect even when respect isn't deserved. There are more fools with titles than wise men without."

DG had been irked by his statement but time and her encounters with O.Z. nobility had proven it to be true. She envied Cain as much as she resented him for leaving. He had been able to run away. She wasn't. No, DG was bound by her title, and while Cain was somewhere out there building a new cabin and a new life for himself she was stuck here trying to make work the life that had been thrust upon her.

DG took one last glance at the sketchbook in her lap, closed it and sighed. She was tired of drawing. Rising from her perch on the window seat, she stretched, gathered her charcoal pencils, watercolors, and oil pastels and moved toward the large hope chest resting at the foot of her bed. Tucking the sketchbook and supplies snuggly at the bottom of the chest, was like tucking away a part of her soul. But this was only a temporary parting she reminded herself, a sabbatical until her creative horizons broadened once again and she'd broken free from past expectations and naive notions of the future. As she closed the lid a sense of lostness settled on her. It was a familiar feeling and one she welcomed, for it meant that a new journey was about to begin. A wise man once said, "You will be more tomorrow than what you are today." DG sure hoped so, because she didn't feel like much today.

Standing, she looked at the clock. It was late. Another sensible person would have been in bed by this hour, but sensibility was relative and what she was about to do made absolutely perfect sense. At least to her, anyway. After quickly donning her beat up leather jacket and settling her motorcycle goggles on her forehead, DG moved to the old wardrobe on the other side of her bed. Reaching into the small space between the wardrobe's massive bulk and the wall behind, she retrieved a long wooden broom. Most people would consider having a broom in one's bedroom as hardly being out of the ordinary, as you never knew when you might have a mess that needs sweeping up. But for a princess living in a palace with its own housekeeping staff and several maids assigned to keep her room in order, a broom may has well have been a red light that something definitely out of the ordinary was going on. DG had precious few secrets these days and the broom, although completely harmless in her opinion, was one she would prefer to keep especially considering its un-broom-like ability.

The broom bucked wildly in her hands, as eager as any magically animate object to escape the control of its master, or in this case, mistress. But DG would have none of its rebellious behavior. Spelling a broom to fly was one thing. Controlling said broom was a different thing entirely and one that she was having to learn fairly quickly. She laid the broom on the bed, firmly ordering it to "sit" and "stay." The broom obeyed, but only reluctantly, all the while quivering and rattling in protestation. As she unlatched the window, DG contemplated her exit strategy. The now open window was sufficiently large enough to accommodate her small frame and from her vantage point on the window seat she could see across the brick and steel expanse of Central City. Even at night the view was breathtaking, and so was the sheer drop she would have to brave if she continued in this crazy venture.

"This is absolutely crazy," her voice confirming what her mind had already knew. Still, DG had a list full of crazy things she'd done. If she could jump into a tornado and defeat an evil witch she could learn to fly a broom. Ever since she had first discovered the spell during a rather monotonous lesson on theories of practical magic, she had worked diligently, not to mention secretly, on mastering it. Broom magic was rather frowned upon in the O.Z.. An incident about a hundred and fifty years back involving her own great great grandmother had spawned the notion that only wicked witches rode brooms. This was absolutely absurd and a waste of a perfectly good mode of transportation. If her mother knew what she was doing, stigma or not, she would immediately add this to the list of things deemed reckless and unbecoming a princess of the O.Z..

After what was now called the water garden fiasco, Lavender had even forbidden DG from riding her motorcycle. For the record, none of it was actually her fault. Had she known about Glitch's "modifications" she never would have gotten on the bike. As it happened, what was meant to be a pleasant drive around Central Palace's vast grounds turned into an out of control high speed rampage that ended with DG being catapulted, along with her motorcycle and several nobles who unfortunately could not get out of the way fast enough, into one of the garden's many fountains. Her motorcycle was totaled and the stone statue in the center of the fountain toppled, but surprisingly, and against all odds, no one was severely injured. Just soggy clothing and a few scrapes and bruises. But to this day those lords and ladies who received the dunking insist that the whole affair was an attempt on their lives. Well, if anyone could drown in a knee deep pool of water it would have been one of those pompous, overdressed fops.

DG blinked and shook her head. Her thoughts had been rather dark of late, very much like the cloudy, ominous night sky she was now staring out at. The wind tugged at her clothing and for a brief moment DG wondered if she should postpone this practice flight, but her obstinacy was stronger than her hesitation. Without moving from her stance on the window seat, DG reached back toward the broom.

"Broom, come!" She commanded. It leapt off the bed and shot into her outstretched hand.

This time it did not struggle against her grasp, almost as if it knew what was about to happen. As DG straddled the broom, she could almost hear her mother say "A princess never rides astride. Sidesaddle only." Well, this wasn't a horse and there were no saddle and reins. If she fell off, she didn't have the luxury of falling only a few feet and landing in a soft pile of hay. DG was taking her life into her own hands and she wanted as secure a mount as possible.

Pulling her goggles down over her eyes, DG placed her full weight onto the broom and gingerly lifted her legs, tucking them as close to broom as she could. The broom hovered docilely in the air. A strange half hiccup, half giggle escaped her throat. She was absolutely terrified, but it was a good kind of scared, like when you watch a horror movie or ride a roller coaster. DG tightened her grip on the broom handle.

"Alright Broom, let's go!" She leaned forward and they shot out of the window and into the dark night sky.


	3. CrashTest DG

Disclaimer: I do not own the Wizard of OZ or Tin Man, including all the characters therein. Thanks to Frank L. Baum and the writers of Tin Man for creating such wonderful worlds and characters that inspire the imagination.

Side- note: I am so sorry for the really late posting. In the dodge-ball game of life I got whacked pretty hard, but I finally managed to complete this chapter. I hope it doesn't disappoint. Thank you for your support and patience.

Crash-Test DG

The wind had steadily picked up, and if DG didn't know better she'd have thought it had a personal vendetta against her the way it was trying to swat her out of the sky. She'd managed to make two circuits around the perimeter of Central City before the wind had blown her off course. Her attempts at course correction were useless against the buffeting current of the wind and now she was completely focused on staying airborne. Dread filled her stomach when she realized how far she'd flown and where she was headed. The dark tower loomed ever closer, its needle-like form listing off to one side. Something had happened to the ground shortly after the witch's demise causing the tower to shift and begin sinking as well as killing off all the foliage within a half-mile radius. Lavender finally proclaimed the area a dead zone and had a massive barbed wire fence erected to prevent anyone from entering. DG looked down just as the fence whizzed by many feet below her. An ominous rumble of thunder echoed through the air and a flash of lightening lit up the sky for a brief moment, illuminating the tower and the swirling black cloud rising from it. DG's heart beat a terrified rhythm in her chest as the raucous cawing reached her ears. Crows! A huge flock of the nasty black birds had nested in the tower after it was abandoned. DG had heard stories about them attacking anyone who trespassed on their territory. They were one of the reasons her mother had restricted the area. The angry crows quickly converged on her, pecking and scratching, forcing DG into a steep descent. She hit the ground hard and tumbled violently to a halt. There was no time for her to catch her breath before the flock swarmed her again. Swinging the broom like a club, DG tried to defend herself against the onslaught of malicious beaks and claws, but there were just too many of them.

"Leave me alone!" She screamed, punctuating each word. Her fear and panic triggered an explosion of magic that stunned crows. DG leapt back onto her broom and shot off into the sky without looking back.

She reached the safety of her bedroom just as the heavens opened, releasing a torrential downpour. Her landing was less than graceful, but she didn't care. Too exhausted to place the battered broom back behind the wardrobe, she simply leaned it against the hearth and half-heartedly told it to "stay." DG stripped off her clothes. Stained with dirt and blood and riddled with holes, they were completely ruined. No amount of washing or mending could restore them. Magic maybe, but there was something about that soil that gave DG the chills. With a regretful sigh she threw them into the large fireplace. Striking a match, she tossed it in and watched as the flames slowly devoured clothes and wood kindling. That leather jacket had been her favorite.

In the bathroom, DG turned on the faucet letting the hot water run over the bloody gash on her left hand right between her thumb and forefinger. After wrapping her hand in an old handkerchief, DG sighed again and glanced at the clock on her bedside table. There was still a good two hours before the rest of her family would be awake. Sleep was all she cared about now. Not bothering to put on her pajamas she collapsed on the bed, barely managing to crawl under the blankets before falling deeply into unconsciousness.

"What happened in here?" Azkadellia's shrill cry jolted DG out of her slumber. Jerking upright, she blinked groggily, clutching the bed sheets tightly to her chest. Her sister's face, when it finally came into focus, was one of concern and shock. The ornately woven Quoxian carpet on which Azkadellia's gaze rested was littered with dirt and goose down from what looked to be the remains of a once exquisitely plush chair cushion. The condition of the rest of her room wasn't much better. It looked like someone or something had gone on a wild rampage. Pictures hung crookedly on the wall or rested on the floor in heaps of shattered glass. Lamps had been knocked over and books strewn everywhere. Nothing was in its proper place. The room certainly hadn't looked like this when she'd come home last night.

"Oh my…" She murmured. A subdued rattling drew the girls' attention and there, wedged tightly between the legs of her desk and wrapped in a tangle of heavy drapes was DG's broom, looking quite the worse for wear, part of its bristles having been severely singed.

"Is this yours?" Azkadellia asked, freeing the quivering broom from its oak and cloth captors. DG nodded. "I left it by the hearth last night and it must have caught a spark." She would have had to have been sleeping like the dead not to have heard the racket the broom made as it careened around the room in an attempt to put out the small conflagration kindled in its bristles. DG winced as she took the broom from Az, the deep gash on her left hand stinging fiercely. The makeshift bandage she'd swathed around the wound was filthy and stained with blood.

"By the gods Deej, what happened?" Az exclaimed, reaching for her sister's arm. "Look at you, you're covered in scratches."

Turning toward the mirror mounted on the far wall, DG saw for the first time the extent of the wounds she sustained from her crash landing and fight with the tower crows. A nasty laceration ran diagonally across her left cheek and her arms were riddled with small needle-like pricks and long scratches, the result of sharp beaks and claws. The stinging sensations she was beginning to feel on her bare back and legs informed DG that if she looked she'd find more of the same.

"Crows," she said thickly, her mouth drier than the Great Desert that bordered the O.Z. "I was mobbed by crows."

"Crows?" Az made a face as realization dawned, and DG braced herself for the lecture. "The tower! Deej you know that area is forbidden! How did you… wait, don't tell me you flew to the tower on that!" Az gestured to the still trembling broom resting in DG's lap. DG's less-than-innocent expression confirmed her suspicions. "Of all the silly things you've done this one takes the cake. What possessed you to do something like this?"

She shook her head. "I guess I was bored. My motorcycle is trashed and there is absolutely nothing to do around here and hardly anybody to talk to. Flying seemed like a good way to unwind, gain some perspective. You won't tell mother will you?" DG looked at her sister pleadingly. Now that Az knew about her little secret, DG had to make sure no one else found out. Not even her mother and father. The uproar such a discovery would cause would be unbearable and DG didn't want the negative attention that riding a broomstick would bring.

Az sighed. "DG, you're going to have to tell mother and father sooner or later. Flying around on a broom is not something you can easily hide. Eventually someone is going to see you, and then what would happen? Mother has already lost a lot of support simply by keeping me around."

"I know, and I will. Just not right now. Please, Az?" She implored.

Azkadelia wavered slightly; she hated keeping secrets from her parents, but she understood that DG needed this. "Alright," she said, giving in. "But you have to promise never to pull a stunt like this again."

D.G. grinned and crossed her heart. "I promise."

Standing, Az handed DG the luxurious blue silk robe that was tossed haphazardly across the back of a chair. "Here, put this on. You'd better get this mess cleaned up too. I'll give mother some excuse as to why you missed breakfast, but if she does decide to come up here, you won't want her thinking you were attacked by renegade longcoats or something. As for those cuts," Azkadellia continued. "I've got some salves and healing salts in my room that should take care of them."

DG slipped into the robe, ignoring the raw sting of her scratches, and got up and hugged her sister. "You're the best, Az. I owe you one."

"Well, that's what big sisters are for," Azkadellia replied, smiling, "to keep little sisters like you out of too much trouble. In return, maybe you can give me a flying lesson or two. After all I am the wicked witch in the family." Az may have been teasing, but DG knew she still battled with guilt over being the accomplice, no matter how unwilling, of the witch for so many years. Self-deprecating humor had become another defense mechanism Az used to conceal the turmoil within her, however it only served to amplify it. DG ignored the quip and smiled. "You got it, Sis."

"Go on, get to work," Azkadellia urged gently."I'll be back shortly." With that she left, the door clicking shut behind her. D.G. flopped down on the bed with a sigh. was stalking a mass of goose feathers, pouncing and batting them happily, his exotic black spotted coat transitioning from yellow to emerald green. It was hard to believe that this large, handsome feline had ever been a half-starved, half-drowned wretch of a kitten. Nearly a year had passed since Wyatt Cain pulled ROY from the Kells River and placed him in her arms. It wasn't until after Cain had gone that DG realized that what he had been trying to say when he'd given her the color shifting kitten was goodbye. Repressing the deep ache in her heart, DG pulled herself back into the present. She scooped the cat up, laughing at his mock ferocity, and deposited him on the bed. "Play time's over, ROY." she said, scrubbing his head. He meowed in protest but stayed put, his coat settling into a rich violet. Grabbing the broom, she stowed it safely behind the wardrobe.

Taking a deep breath, DG summoned her Light. A miniature cyclone formed at her feet, drawing in the glass, dirt and feathers as she sent it wheeling around the room. With a flick of her wrist she waved the whirlwind out the open window and smiled.

"Now that's what I call state-of-the-art cyclone technology." When it came to cleaning, she'd pick magic over a vacuum any day. It didn't take long for DG to straighten all the items the broom had knocked over and she had just begun to strip her bed of the dirty sheets when a loud rap sounded at her door. That couldn't possibly be Az back already, she thought hastily stuffing the wad of sheets into the large already overcrowded wardrobe. She really needed to do laundry. DG preferred washing her own clothes, despite the insistence of the house-keeping staff that such menial duties were not befitting a princess of the O.Z. She didn't really enjoy the task but her clothes, especially her Other Side clothes, somehow managed to disappear if she didn't keep a close eye on them, being replaced by froufrou dresses with superfluous frills and flounces. Trousers and jeans weren't considered appropriate attire for any female in the O.Z. much less a princess, but DG hoped to set a new trend, much to her mother's dismay. Her mother…

The knock sounded again, louder. "Just a minute!" she called, pressing her backside forcefully against the wardrobe doors, willing them to close.

"Oh for heaven's sake, it's me, Glitch. Can I come in or not? "

DG sighed with relief and granted him admittance. Glitch wheeled a small dining trolley into the room. "I had some spare time and thought you might be hungry since you missed breakfast," he said lifting the silver lids off several serving trays bedecked with an assortment of pastries, fruit, yogurt, and a rather sizable portion of bacon to go with the vegetable omelet. Glitch had even provided DG with her choice of milk, orange juice and coffee.

She stared at the quantity of food in amazement. "How did you….?"

Glitch grinned rakishly and shrugged. "What can I say, Cook loves me."

The tantalizing aromas drifting from the food laden trolley made DG realize how hungry she actually was. The moment she stepped away from the wardrobe, its doors sprung open, a mound of dirty laundry tumbling onto the floor. Glitch's eyes twinkled mischievously as he studied the heap of tangled clothes and bed sheets. "Doing some cleaning I see."

DG bit deeply into a raspberry tart and glared at her friend. It was true she wasn't the tidiest person around, but she still didn't like having her bad habits discussed. Unfortunately, Glitch couldn't take a hint.

"Oh ho! What have we here?" Glitch said, spotting something of great interest among the laundry pile. When he reached for a pink and black leopard print bra, DG felt something akin to mortification pour through her body. But Glitch barely glanced at the undergarment before tossing it aside. With a great flourish he yanked a rather unremarkable pair of beige trousers free from the mass of clothes and held them aloft.

"Waist 34, length 36…. Mmhmm… Yep, these are definitely Cain's trousers! But why do you have a pair of our favorite ex-tin man's pants?" Glitch wagged a pant leg in her direction, his expression as transparent as a window pane. DG choked on her mouthful of tart when she realized the conclusions he was drawing. The trousers still bore the blood stains from where the Papay runner had bitten Cain. DG had intended to wash and mend them, but the excitement of defeating the witch had pushed it from her mind. The pants had lain in her wardrobe ever since.

"It's not what you think," she sputtered, but before she could set him straight Glitch's jaw slackened and his eyes glazed over. The synaptic misfire couldn't have come at a better time.

"Oh, are we having breakfast?" Glitch, having completely forgotten their previous exchange, dropped the trousers and grabbed a greasy piece of bacon. DG sighed with relief and joined her friend. She was more than content to eat in silence as he prattled on, between mouthfuls of food, about his latest invention. It felt like old times again, even if it was for a brief moment.

"Oops, hold still doll." Glitch reached toward her with a napkin. "You've got raspberry filling smeared on your face."

DG yelped the instant the cloth napkin touched her cheek. Glitch jerked back, startled.

"What the…? Where did you get that?" He asked noticing the scratch for the first time.

DG shoved a large piece of pastry in her mouth. "I fell," she mumbled. Fortunately, Azkadellia walked through door sparing DG from making further explanation.

"Oh, Ambrose, you're here," Az said. "I ran into Kirby in the hall. He's looking for you. He was rambling something about a hydroelectric converginator and flux contamination. I'm not sure exactly what that means…"

"Oh no, oh no," Glitch muttered repeatedly, clearly alarmed. "Um, you'll have to excuse me…" He made a stiff bow and dashed out of the room. Despite their genuine concern for his predicament, the girls could not help but burst out laughing. With his brain having been restored, Glitch had all of his previous genius but he'd never fully recovered any of Ambrose's poise or gravity. In everything he did Glitch was scattered and dreamy, but neither DG nor Az would have wanted him any other way.

Az set down the basket she was carrying and wiped the happy tears from her eyes. "I hope he figures out the problem. In the mean time, let's take care of those cuts."

The warm bath water might have been soothing if Az hadn't added the healing salts, but as it was DG could barely keep from squealing in pain. Gradually the stinging faded and DG breathed a sigh of relief.

"There, that wasn't so bad," Az said. DG just snorted and sank further into the cloudy, salt-filled water. A peaceful silence descended over them and Azkadellia relaxed her guard. It was nice having someone with whom she didn't have to pretend.

Az looked at her sister thoughtfully. "Deej?"

"Yeah?"

"You aren't the only one who still feels lost, you know."

"I know," DG said quietly. "But at least we're lost together."

Az smiled sadly and stood, the mask of well-adjusted princess falling smoothly back into place. "I'd better go. Lessons start soon. I'll tell Tutor you'll be late." Before DG could even say thank you, she swished out of the room.

DG reheated the bath water with her magic twice before deciding her fingers and toes were pruny enough to warrant the drain being pulled. As she stepped out of the tub a wave of nausea and lightheadedness struck her forcefully. I must have gotten overheated, she thought as she leaned against the towel rack for support, waiting for the discomfort to pass. Grabbing a towel she dried off and dressed quickly. Toto would be waiting for her in the library with several dusty tomes filled with spells and magical theories she would be required to study thoroughly. While she considered the practical application of magic quite enjoyable, the book work was mind numbingly boring. But Toto insisted that the successful use of magic was ninety percent cogitation and ten percent perspiration.

Squaring her shoulders and preparing herself for the tedium to come, DG strode purposefully out of her room. However, her resolve didn't even make it to the end of the hall before it was undermined by her complete loathing of school work. Groaning, DG moped and shuffled the rest of the way to the library. Toto, as expected, was pacing before a large oak desk laden with books and ancient scrolls, enthusiastically instructing Az on the differences between wild magic and the magic that was the Gale heritage. Noticing DG's presence, he ceased his lecture.

"Ah, DG," Toto said, leaning his rotund frame heavily on the desk. "I was wondering if you would show up today. I know how much you love books." The sarcasm in his tone was unmistakable.

"I wouldn't miss it." Her half-hearted response and miserable attempt at a smile was not lost on Toto, but he merely shook his head and gestured to a chair. "Shall we continue?"


End file.
